


mess, miss, moss, mexican dream

by RyDyKG



Category: Dream SMP - Fandom, Minecraft (Video Game)
Genre: BAMF Mexican Dream, Canonical Character Death, Clay | Dream Kills TommyInnit (Video Blogging RPF), Crack, Crack Treated Seriously, F/M, Fluff, Gen, Implied/Referenced Abuse, Implied/Referenced Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Implied/Referenced Drug Use, Lighter than it seems, Magic-Users, Minor Violence, Old Gods, Presumed Dead, Revenge, Self-Indulgent, pop off mexican dream <3
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-03-06
Updated: 2021-03-06
Packaged: 2021-03-14 23:40:28
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,434
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29799624
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RyDyKG/pseuds/RyDyKG
Summary: Mexican Dream t-poses as he floats above a terrified Dream.“Padre nuestro que estás en los cielos, santificado sea tu nombre venga tu reino, Hágase tu voluntad asì en la tierra como en el cielo danos hoy nuestro pan cotidiano y perdónanos nuestras deudas asì como nosotros perdonamos á nuestros deudores y no nos metas en tentación mas líbranos de mal.” Mexican Dream says.“What the fuck,” Dream replies, half in sheer terror and half in confusion.(Mexican Dream will not stand for this sort of shit being done to one of his friends. No, Dream had topay.)
Relationships: Clay | Dream & Mexican Dream (Video Blogging RPF), DreamXD & Mexican Dream (Dream SMP), Jschlatt & Wilbur Soot & Mexican Dream, Mexican Dream/Mamacita | Girl Dream, Tommyinnit & Mexican Dream (Video Blogging RPF), Wilbur Soot & TommyInnit
Comments: 16
Kudos: 189





	mess, miss, moss, mexican dream

**Author's Note:**

> someone needed to punch c!dream. and who better to do so than MEXICAN DREAM MY BELOVEDDDDD <333333
> 
> do not question the title. i thought of it, laughed, and now it is PermanentTM.
> 
> anyways this is very self-indulgent. let md pop off goddamnit. also I may or may not have made an original family tree here soooo

Mexican Dream — though he’d rather to be called MD — remembers Tomas. It is hard not to, when the boy is both memorable and tied to the other two men with him in one way or another. In fact, it is quite possibly one of the only similarities between him, Schlatt and Wilbur: they all knew Tomas.

Point is, he remembers Tomas. He knows how Tomas is. From the moment he’s laid eyes on the younger, he knew that Tomas would not die so easily, nor so quickly.

So then, why is Tomas in front of him right now?

Is he… dead?

The samba song following him around stops, as MD gapes at the boy who isn’t supposed to be here.

“MEXICAN DREAM!” Tomas wails, pushing away a shocked Wilbur to run up to him. MD catches him, wincing when he realises how _light_ Tomas is. “YOU’RE HERE!”

“AY, MAN!” MD exclaims, trying to sound enthusiastic. “What are you doing here, man? Thought you were back at your house?”

“Yeah, about that,” Tomas’ face falls, and Wilbur steps forwards again. Schlatt is nowhere to be found. Huh, guess he did really humiliate him in competitive solitaire.

“Tommy,” Wilbur says, gentle and tight and filled with rage all in one. “What happened? Why do you…”

Looking closer, MD realises with a sinking feeling that there is a circle-shaped bruise on Tomas’ cheek, and a few finger-shaped bruises on Tomas’ neck. 

He’d grown up on the streets with the boys, after all, even if he hadn’t stayed there for long. He knows what choking looks like.

“Dream,” Tomas says, quiet and bitter, and MD’s mind brings him a faint memory of a green hooded person, and ah, ‘Dream’ killed him. “He- I told him to stop but- he never stopped and I- I didn’t-”

Tomas is crying now, and MD hugs him tighter. Wilbur makes a move to pull Tomas to himself, and it is only after Tomas tells him that it’s okay that MD lets him fall into Wilbur’s arms, crying his heart out.

“He did this! I didn’t- Dream was- I never wanted-” Tomas cries, and something in MD _snaps._

“Ah,” for once, his persona slips as he whispers in disgust. “That _motherfucker_.”

“What did you say, Mexican Dream?” Wilbur questions him. MD laughs boisterously and brightly, and turns away.

“Ay, man!” MD calls out, something settling into him as he starts to walk away. “I’m gonna go get some drugs, eh? You’ll feel better with ‘em, Tomas!”

He hears Tomas giggle, hears Wilbur say something to Tomas, but all he can feel is the bubbling white-hot rage beneath his skin.

Schlatt is passed out on the kitchen counter. MD doesn’t give him a second glance as he keeps walking, until he reaches a place where he knows that no one else but his family will be able to reach.

First, Dream has the audacity to insult him before ‘killing’ him off. Then, he has the audacity to murder his own son? And in such a brutal way too?

MD clenches his fists, and dark red sparks surround his hands. He has not participated in a street fight in a very long time, not when his only companions are a drunkard and a maniac, but muscle memory stays with time and emotions, and right now, MD is a very angry man.

Besides, if fist-fighting doesn’t work well, his magic is always at his beck and call.

“Exdee,” he says sharply into the emptiness of the void, outside of the little house that has been made. “I’m calling for you.”

It’s not long before his younger sibling appears, in a bright flash of glimmering green smoke and gold smoke. Ever the dramatic one in the family, they adorn a long green cloak, wear a multitude of grand and royal cloths, and hold a curved and long white staff in their hand.

“So you’ve finally decided to stop this whole shenanigan?” Exdee laughs brightly, a white mask with an ‘XD’ on it glowing bright green. “Took you long enough!”

“Take me down,” MD says bluntly. “Just for a while. At least until I get revenge on Tomas’ father.”

“Hmm, I don’t know,” Exdee shrugs, giggling a little before continuing. “I mean, it will mess with everything. Fate is a fickle thing, after all. This was meant to happen! Plus… do I really have to listen to you?”

“Well, I’m the oldest one in this family, man,” MD adds on that last ‘man’ at the end of his sentence, smiling in a way that he knows has always made his family afraid. Menacing spanish music starts as he stares his sibling down. “So get me down there, _or else_.”

“Okay, okay!” Exdee yelps, and pulls one of his devices out. “But you owe me for this!”

“Just like how you still owe me so many more,” MD growls out, right before his vision swims, and he feels the heat of the sun warming his skin.

As he looks around, he realises that he’s at one of his many houses. In fact, this particular house looks familiar…

His eyes spot the potted plants on the windowsill, and a realisation occurs.

“Mamacita?!” MD yells out to the house, stepping into it. “Mama, where are you? Baby, I’m back!”

This is his and Mamacita’s latest house; not counting the one at Tomas’ beach, of course. Mamacita has been busy since his ‘death’, and while MD has been sending her letters whenever he’s out of sight from Schlatt and Wilbur, he hasn’t sent one in quite a while...

He pushes their bedroom door, and is greeted by a slap to his face. Stunned, he steps back, and sees Mamacita glaring at him.

“You idiot!” Mamacita snarls, and MD has a moment where he believes that Mamacita’s truly angry, until he feels her body collide with his, her arms wrapping around his neck, and he feels wetness on his shirt and _oh._

“Mamacita?” he asks, and for once, his voice is not loud. Mamacita seems to sob even harder at that.

“Don’t you dare do that to me ever again,” she pulls away from his shirt to say fiercely. “I- you can’t- you’re not allowed to die on my watch. Never again. Not until I _say_ you can.”

Most people would hear it as a threat. MD hears it as a confession.

“Oh, Mama,” he sighs, hugging her again. “You know how I am. As much as I don’t want to, I have to.”

“You should’ve taken me with you,” Mamacita hisses. “I could’ve-”

“No!” MD bursts out before he realises what he’s saying. “I can’t- Mama, I _had_ to die. If I had let you come with me, baby, you wouldn’t have…”

He takes a deep breath, and continues. “You wouldn’t have been able to come back, man. I was supposed to keep an eye on the two that would be arriving in Superhell.”

Romantic music starts playing. The two of them ignore it, although it does fit the mood.

“I know,” Mamacita whispers. “I know I wouldn’t have. I know you have your duty to do. But that- that doesn’t make it any easier on me whenever you leave. Everytime, I keep thinking that you’ll leave and never come back, and I don’t-”

“I’ll always come back for you, baby,” MD swears, wholeheartedly and truthfully, as he takes her hands and kisses the back of them. “And if I don’t, I’m sure my family can help you track me down and kill me, man.”

At those words, Mamacita giggles a little. “I’ll hold you to that.”

Despite the nice conversation, MD has a goal to finish, and a revenge to enact. So, he tells everything to Mamacita, and reluctantly parts from her embrace.

“I’ll be back soon,” he promises her. “Stay safe, mi amor. I love you, baby.”

“Come back home soon,” he hears her say, and they kiss passionately once more, before MD lets his magic whisk him away.

Getting into the prison is easy. He just teleports inside, after all. The Mexican music following him around starts to have violins in it. The alarms are shut off by him, as he marches invisibly towards the jail cell, where he will find the bastard he has to kill.

Dream.

That man… MD loathes him, has loathed him way before he’s done what he has done. He steals his family’s brand, pretends to be a god, and has the audacity to treat everyone around him as if they are _puppets_. Even his own _family._

He does not see what Exdee sees in him, nor why Drista is so insistent on bothering him. All he sees is a false god who has harmed one of his friends, and for that, Dream will not live for much longer.

“Ey, man!” he shouts, letting himself become visible as he steps into the prison. The slight stench of rotting flesh is enough to make his anger boil again, and he finds a sense of satisfaction as Dream becomes a lot more alert, lying against a wall, tensed and wary.

“Who are you?” he asks. His eyes dart around, and he continues. “And how did you get past Sam?”

A good man would probably tell, even vaguely, how and why he is here. A good man will probably give him a chance to explain himself, to see if he is redeemable or not. A good man wouldn’t even try to kill him.

MD is not a good man.

MD t-poses as he floats above a terrified Dream.

“Padre nuestro que estás en los cielos, santificado sea tu nombre venga tu reino, Hágase tu voluntad asì en la tierra como en el cielo danos hoy nuestro pan cotidiano y perdónanos nuestras deudas asì como nosotros perdonamos á nuestros deudores y no nos metas en tentación mas líbranos de mal.” MD chants, staring down at the one who had dared to kill his own son.

It is not a curse, but rather a prayer to the gods above. It is getting harder and harder to restrain himself from simply killing Dream, and so he prays to the gods above that they’ll grant him some scraps of patience to deal with this _bullshit._

“What the fuck,” Dream replies, half in sheer terror and half in confusion.

“Fuck you, man!” he snaps, descending back down to the ground. His Mexican flag-cape flutters behind him as he slowly walks towards the deadbeat. “You don’t just do that kind of fucked up shit, man! This ain’t a fucking video game!”

MD scowls when, instead of looking even remotely guilty, Dream looks _proud_. Satisfied.

“Is it not?” he laughs lightly, losing any sort of fear he might have had before. “I don’t know how you’ve returned, Mexican Dream, but it doesn’t matter. I can always put you back where you belong, as easily as I can bring you back. Just like how I’ll do to Tommy. After all, our game isn’t over yet.”

MD doesn’t stop himself from punching him in the face. It is not enough to kill, but it is enough to leave a bruise that _will_ stay for eternity.

“He was your son.” MD hisses, and Dream’s face is one of confusion until he realises.

“Tommy’s not my son!” Dream splutters, and MD’s rage rises at the way the bastard will deny the connection to his own _son_. He knows Exdee does not have the best of choices in mentees, but he thinks that Dream is the worst of his choices by far.

Red moss crawls up the walls, as green and white vines twirl and encase the room in forestry in a way that Dream will never be able to escape from. The bastard is trapped, fully and wholly.

“Hey, man,” MD says, feeling _something_ bubbling up in his chest, as the music rises in a crescendo, and more instruments start to be added to the overall orchestra. He plays into his persona, and smiles, cruel and dangerous and reeking of revenge all in one. “I’ll give you some drugs, _man_.”

Something in his chest bursts, and as his fist connects with Dream’s face one last time, the world is washed white.

Meanwhile, two siblings watch all of this go down. One with mild interest, and the other with disgruntlement.

“You have terrible taste in chosen ones,” Drista tells Exdee, as they watch their oldest brother enact his revenge. “This is why I told you to take my advice.”

“You are several centuries younger than me,” Exdee snaps, pacing back and forth, frantically typing into multiple devices at once. “Ugh, I don’t want to watch this anymore.”

“Why, because you can’t handle the truth?” Drista scoffs. “I think you need to visit Shitass, _man_.”

“Shut up!” sometimes, despite being the middle child, Exdee acts as if they’re the youngest child instead. “I’m not gonna visit Shitass! He’s busy with heading to visit Quackity, anyways!”

“Oh?” the last time Drista had seen Quackity in person, they were in public, and so they had to pretend not to know each other. The last time she heard from Quackity, though, he seemed to be doing relatively well for himself. She thinks he has two… boyfriends? Fiancés?

Whatever his relationship status, Drista will bet that she’s the only one who knows, since Quackity has a tendency to forget to tell his family certain things.

“Stop giggling like that,” Exdee hisses, and it only makes Drista laugh harder at the thoughts of how Shitass will react to Quackity’s partners.

“Alright, alright,” she chuckles. “But you know, Exdee, if you ever need advice…”

“Whatever,” Exdee grumbles, taking a look at the scene below them one last time. Drista looks down too, and sees Dream getting absolutely pummelled by vines. “I’m leaving, and don’t you _dare_ follow me.”

“Say hi to your little mushroom baby to me!” Drista sing-songs mockingly as Exdee disappears with a few sparkles and a loud sound, like the dramatic bitch they are.

Drista sighs, and takes out her to-do list. She can’t really do anything with Exdee or MD right now, and Shitass doesn’t want to be bothered most of the time, and she doesn’t have a big enough death wish to mess with him. Plus, while she’s pretty sure Quackity will let her along, Quackity probably hates Dream right now, and her similar appearance won’t help with that. 

Which leaves only one person that she actually knows, and can go to.

“Hmm,” she wonders aloud, a smile pulling at her lips. “Hey, maybe I should pay Tommy a visit soon.”

**Author's Note:**

> for those confused by the family, here:  
> MD, XD & Drista are siblings in order, only half-related though.  
> MD & Mamacita are together.  
> Quackity and Shitass are cousins.  
> Quackity and MD are cousins.  
> Conclusion: big q is the token human in a family of gods
> 
> also: md is probably still under the illusion that tommy is dream’s son. i mean, you’ve seen how he referred to dream during the times when he was there lmao, so I hope that explains that
> 
> also yes there will be a karlnapity sequel in which karl and sapnap meet quackity’s family. :)


End file.
